


Weigh You Down

by Long_Time_QT



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: CPR, Drowning, Episode: s02e04 Abomination, M/M, Pre-Slash, Swimming Pool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4010716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Long_Time_QT/pseuds/Long_Time_QT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This had gone on for far too long. Derek tried kicking, tried moving his arms. His movements were pathetic, sluggish, and utterly weak. He’d never be able to keep himself above water alone, but at this rate they’d both drown anyway."</p>
<p>Or what would have happened if Scott was a little late to the swim meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weigh You Down

Derek took deep breaths, or at least tried to as his face dipped underwater as often as it did, irritated as sensation returned at an agonizingly slow pace to his paralyzed limbs. It was bad enough he couldn’t move, but having to rely on an overly sarcastic teenager to keep his head above water was something else. Still, he couldn’t fight the worry welling within him. Stiles had been keeping them both afloat for hours now. It was only a matter of time until his fight fled, a fact they were both keenly aware of.

“I can’t stay up much longer,” Stiles panted, “I need something to hold onto.”

Derek had already resigned himself at that point, prepared to sink. There was no way Stiles could hold them both up, even if he had something to hold onto. He was sure to drop him the moment he realized he wouldn’t be able to keep Derek afloat. With luck, he could rely on his lycanthropic endurance to hold air in his lungs until help (hopefully) arrived. What he didn’t expect was Stiles to dragging him along until they were under the diving board.

_What is he…_ , Derek wondered until Stiles tried reaching for platform support, trying to grab it. Derek very nearly rolled his eyes. This was a stupid plan. Stiles would never be able to get a tight enough grip, not with wet hands and Derek holding him down. He’d be better off if he dropped the dead weight and saved himself.

Stiles’ breath was coming out in sharp pants, clearly running out of both strength and energy. And they slipped under for just a few seconds before a burst of energy on Stiles’ part brought them to the surface again.

This had gone on for far too long. Derek tried kicking, tried moving his arms. His movements were pathetic, sluggish, and utterly _weak_. He’d never be able to keep himself above water alone, but at this rate they’d both drown anyway.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed, feeling his lifeline’s overexerted muscles tremble and labored breaths wracking through his body, “You’re not gonna last much longer.” Stiles grunted and tried grabbing the support again.

“I can,” his voice strained, shaky fingers struggling for a good grasp on the support, “Just gotta-“

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted reluctantly, “You’re going to drown if you keep this up.” Stiles shook his head and he slipped again. They were under again, but took longer to fight to the surface again. This was getting ridiculous. Kanima be damned, there was a better shot of Stiles surviving out there with a bloodthirsty monster than he did in the pool. No one else had to die because he couldn’t protect them.           

“STILES! You’ve done enough. Just get yourself out.“ Stiles, too calm for their situation, shook his head and tried getting hold of the support again.

“Can’t,” he panted, “I can’t-“

They were under once more. This time, they didn’t resurface. The chlorine stung Derek’s eyes as he watched Stiles weakly try to claw their way up to the surface. Derek couldn’t understand. Why wouldn’t Stiles let him go? He could save himself, why was he so set on this suicide mission?

They sank slowly deeper into the pool. The diffuse blue light cast no shadow but turned their skin the pale color of death. Derek fought harder to get his useless body to bring them to the surface while Stiles’ movements grew weaker but more desperate. He still didn’t let go.

Derek’s throat burned and chest constricted, his lungs crying out for the air that was both an arm’s length and an eternity away. His head was in a vice, ready to burst from the pressure. It wouldn’t be long before-

Bubbles burst forward and drifted up over their heads. Derek turned to see Stiles jerk and seize. He stilled.

_No_. The pained expression on Stiles’ upturned face grew lax, lips parted and hazel-brown eyes half closed and lifeless. Tiny bubbles, the last of the air from his lungs, floated lazily out through his mouth. Terror weighed on Derek as Stiles’ grip eased off.

Derek tightened his arms around Stiles’ chest. This boy, who’d spent three hours treading water to keep them alive, who’d risked his life time and time again to save his friends, who’d annoy the crap out of him every chance he got. He was…

Something primal ignited within Derek. He needed now more than ever to get to the surface. He wouldn’t lose Stiles. He fought against the oppressive weight of the water pushing them down, raising his free hand to break the surface.

A hand gripped his and before Derek could register surprise, he and Stiles were hoisted up and thrown unceremoniously on the hard, tiled ground. Derek gasped and fought for breath as Scott’s roar echoed through the air, the only clue to his rescuer’s identity before he turned to defend against the kanima. Derek didn’t pay attention after that. He had to save him.

Derek rolled Stiles on his back and tilted his chin up. He brought shaky hands to Stiles’ still chest and pumped as best he could with mostly unresponsive arms, trying keeping a steady rhythm. Stiles would _not_ die. Not when he’s done so much. Not when he’s always been so… alive.

Derek stopped pumping when water leaked from the corners of Stiles’ mouth and brought his hand up to turn Stiles’ head. The traitorous liquid flowed from an unusually quiet mouth. He brought Stiles’ face back and clumsily smashed his lips against Stiles’, blowing air into waterlogged lungs. God, he was already exhausted. He returned to Stiles’ chest and started pumping again, soon feeling Scott’s presence behind him.

“Come on,” Derek pleaded softly. 

More water spilled, but still no response. Rage flared within Derek and his eyes burned red.

“COME ON!”

Quietly, Scott dropped to his knees beside Derek.

“Stiles…”

Derek flinched at the hurt in Scott’s voice. If his face matched his voice, Derek didn’t want to see it. He couldn’t bear to see the pain, denial, grief, and most of all, betrayal he would find. However much he deserved it, he couldn’t bear to see how he had betrayed Scott, couldn’t bear to see the heartache that would rob Scott of his smile. He’d caused this. It was his fault Stiles had drowned. Stupid, sarcastic, surprisingly sweet, deceptively selfless—

Choking and sputtering interrupted Derek’s internal turmoil and drew his attention towards the once vacant now expressive face below. Stiles’ eyes were screwed shut as water spurted from his mouth. He coughed and gasped for air, chest rising and falling with each painful, ragged breath.

Derek rolled Stiles on his side to let him cough up the rest of the water, letting his own head drop in relief. He could have laughed with relief, though, he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t. He sighed and rolled Stiles back, meeting his watery, bloodshot eyes.

“Didn’ try ta kiss me di’you?” Stiles gave a lopsided smile before descending into a fit of violent coughing. For the first time, Derek turned to Scott, who knelt with a relieved, albeit worried, smile plastered on his face as he looked down on his best friend. Having sensed Derek looking at him, Scott turned. His smile faded into a neutral expression. Derek huffed and held Scott’s gaze.

“Get him to the hospital,” he commanded, feeling the effects of the exertion and semi-paralysis take over him, “I’ll leave once I can stand.” Scott nodded, muttering ‘okay’, and whipped out his phone.

While Scott made the call, Derek let his gaze fall back to Stiles, surprised to find him propped up on his elbows and looking at him. Staring more like it.

“Thanks,” he croaked. Derek rolled his eyes and placed a hand to Stiles’ chest, gently guiding him back to the floor.

“Stay down. You’ve been through a lot.”

Stiles nodded and smiled. After a moment, his brows drew together and he glanced down. Concerned, Derek followed his gaze, realizing with mild horror that his hand was still on Stiles. He yanked his hand back and looked away from Stiles, toward the pool. It looked so deceptively innocent, and it certainly didn’t look like it had nearly killed them both.

His eyes returned to Stiles, letting his own thanks hang in the air. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. Somehow, the simple sentiment didn’t seem like enough. Stiles smiled anyway and nodded as Scott hung up the phone.

“Ambulance will be here in a few minutes. You should go before then.” Derek nodded and looked over to where Erica had fallen. She seemed relatively unscathed, trying to stand on two feet like a wobbly-legged gazelle. Their eyes met and he knew she’d received the message. They were leaving.

He tried standing on his own when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to Scott, unsure of what was going through his head.

“Thank you,” Scott said after a beat, letting his hand fall, “For saving him.”

“Actually,” Derek muttered, letting his face drop, “he saved me.”

“Dude, that is like, _insanely_ cheesy.” Derek huffed in annoyance, trying to quell the fuzzy feeling in his chest from the fact that Stiles was still around to annoy him.

“Shut up, Stiles.”


End file.
